


Cheer Up

by Joycee



Category: White Collar
Genre: Depression, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5252423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joycee/pseuds/Joycee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter gets depressed and dysfunctional after a case goes wrong. Everyone asks Neal to cheer him up, so he finds an innovative way to help Peter work through his guilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheer Up

Special Agent Peter Burke couldn't sleep. He kept reliving the disastrous end to his last case over and over again in his mind.

Peter carefully slid out of bed so he wouldn't wake his wife. He made his way downstairs in the dark and poured a stiff drink of Johnnie Walker. He winced as he drank it down quickly. Then he poured another and sat down. He felt a little better after that, but he thought one more drink would really leave him relaxed.

When he finished that drink, he started back up the stairs. He missed the first step and came down hard on his ankle. He swore, "Dammit. Now my damn ankle hurts!"

He continued up the stairs into the bedroom as quietly as he could. He flopped down on the bed next to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth rolled over sleepily and hugged him. She said sympathetically, "Oh Hon, having trouble sleeping again?"

Peter sighed, "Mmm, just thinking about things. Sorry I woke you up."

Elizabeth tried to cuddle with him, but he obviously had no interest. She was worried about him drinking late at night, but it did seem to help him get to sleep. She figured she just needed to be patient and understanding and Peter would get over his preoccupation with his last case.

That case had ended with a hostage situation that went terribly wrong. The hostage, a young college student named Bitsy Benning, was killed after the ransom was paid and they weren't even able to apprehend the kidnappers. There was a shootout and it was a bullet from his own SWAT team that killed the hostage.

Peter felt like a total failure and he wasn't used to that. This operation had gone as far wrong as it possibly could. Peter kept going over it in mind, trying to think what they should have done differently. He kept seeing Bitsy's scared face and the tragic horror on the faces of her parents, George and Carol.

The alcohol helped to numb his feelings and muddle his thinking enough to get a little relief, but it didn't lift his spirits. Peter didn't feel like making love to Elizabeth, he wasn't hungry, he had no energy. Most of all, he hated going to work.

In the morning, Peter had a headache. He dragged himself out of bed feeling like he had hardly slept. His ankle hurt from the night before. He spent too long in the shower and then skipped breakfast so he wouldn't be late to work.

At work, he holed up in his office and tried to work on paperwork, but he dreaded writing up the disastrous operation and kept putting it off. He founded himself losing concentration and staring into space.

Diana came in to ask a question and Peter barked, "Can't you see I'm busy here? I can't do my work and yours, too." 

Neal noticed Diana's distress and asked her, "Things didn't go well in there?"

Diana shook her head and admitted, "Neal, I'm worried about Peter. Can you think of any way to cheer him up?"

"Is it the Benning case? I mean we were all upset by that," Neal noted.

"Yeah, of course. It was horrible. But Peter has taken the whole thing upon himself. I'm really worried about him," Diana persisted.

Neal looked up at Peter's office and was surprised to see Peter with his head in his hands, arms propped on his desk. He nodded. "I'll try, Diana."

A little later, Hughes motioned for Neal to come into his office. Neal reluctantly complied, wondering what Hughes wanted with him.

Hughes came right out with out with it. "Caffrey, I'm concerned about Peter. He's taken this foul up with the Benning case awfully hard."

Neal replied respectfully, "I know he has. I've never seen him react like this. I guess it'll just take a little time for him to get over it."

"He has to make peace with himself. Nobody is blaming him. Even the girl's parents understand he tried his best."

"I know. I'm not sure how to help him, though," Neal admitted. "He's hard to reach right now."

Hughes assured him, "You're a pretty resourceful guy, Caffrey, and you're closer to him than anyone else. Probably even closer than his wife, at least when it comes to work."

"What do you want me to do?" asked Neal. He felt at a loss. This was something he had never experienced.

"Find a way to make him feel better," Hughes instructed curtly. "If you can't, I'm going to have to suspend him and refer him for professional counseling."

"Well, maybe he needs professional counseling," hedged Neal.

Hughes nodded, "I have no objection to that, but if I have to suspend him, it'll go on his record. See what you can do, Caffrey."

Neal agreed uncertainly, "Of course, I'll do everything I can to help Peter. I just hope it will be good enough."

Before he went to Peter's office, Neal stopped to see Clinton Jones. He asked, "How much help can you give Peter in writing up the Benning case?"

Jones stared at him, "I've been trying, Neal. I've done as much of it as I can but he won't talk to me about it. Maybe you can think of a way to cheer him up."

Neal sighed, "Okay, I'm going to see if he'll come to lunch with me."

Neal entered Peter's office and went over to stand behind him and massage his shoulders. Peter relaxed slightly and said, "Thanks, Neal. I'm pretty tense. Having trouble getting my work done."

"Let's take a break and go to lunch. What do you say?" Neal suggested.

"Yeah, okay, might as well," Peter agreed unenthusiastically.

As they walked to the elevator, Neal noticed Peter favoring his hurt ankle. He commented sympathetically, "What did you do? Twist an ankle?"

Peter brushed him off, "Aw, just tripped going up the stairs last night. It was stupid."

"Okay," Neal acknowledged. "Well, where would you like to have lunch?"

"Somewhere I can get a drink," Peter said grimly. 

Neal led him to a small bar they sometimes went to after work. He ordered a beer and pointed out, "The food may not be great, but you can certainly get a drink."

Peter nodded gratefully and ordered a Scotch neat. Neal frowned, "Are you sure you don't want a little soda in that? We still have to go back to work this afternoon."

"Leave me alone, Neal. I know what I want," Peter snapped. Neal stared at him and he relented, "I'm sorry, Buddy. I'm just tense. Haven't been sleeping well."

Peter quickly drained his first drink and asked for another. Neal reminded him quietly, "Um, Peter, we do have to go back to work."

"I got it, Neal. Now leave me alone," grouched Peter. Neal shrugged, "Okay, but maybe just slow down a little bit, and let's order something to eat."

"You order," Peter said wearily. "I don't care." Neal looked steadily at Peter with kind blue eyes and offered, "Wanna talk about it?"

Peter looked away. He mumbled, "No, I want another drink." At Neal's admonishing look, he assured him, "Only one more. Three is usually enough."

"Enough for what?" Neal asked curiously. Peter sighed, "Never mind. Just order something for lunch."

Neal guessed, "Steak sandwich?" Peter nodded, "Okay."

Neal got their sandwiches and went back to the table where Peter was sipping his third Scotch. He put a sandwich in front of Peter and checked, “Okay?"

Peter drunkenly waved a hand at him and slurred, "'Kay. Not very hungry anyway."

Neal put his arms around Peter from behind and hugged him, resting his chin on Peter's head. He told him, "I love you, you know."

Peter nodded but added, "I don't know why." Neal sat back down across from him and started eating his sandwich. He asked, "Now why would you say something like that, Peter?"

"Because I'm a complete fuck up. I let that girl die!" Peter drained his drink and staggered toward the door.

Neal quickly left a tip on the table and followed him. Peter turned and pleaded, "Jus' leave me 'lone, Neal. Jus' leave me 'lone."

Neal took his arm as they reached the sidewalk and insisted, "I will not leave you alone, Peter. I love you. I'm going to be here with you while you work through this."

Peter turned his head away and Neal realized he was trying not to cry. Neal put an arm around his shoulders and said gently, "Come on, Peter. We don't have to go back yet. Let's take a walk."

Peter leaned into him for a moment, then pulled away and said brusquely, "No, le's jus' go back to the office. M'okay. Really."

"Peter, you're not," Neal pleaded emotionally. "Come on. Let's take a little walk."

Peter nodded weakly, "'Kay." He allowed Neal to take the lead and numbly walked along. The alcohol was working to numb him so his ankle didn't even bother him. 

After about an hour of mostly silent aimless walking, Neal decided they should go back to the office. He hoped Peter had sobered up enough not to appear obviously drunk. Neal walked Peter into his office and brought him a cup of coffee.

Peter stopped him as he walked toward the door, saying quietly, "Thanks, Neal."

Neal turned and winked at him and replied lightly, "Anytime, buddy."

A little later, Diana walked over to Neal's desk and directed his attention to Peter's office. Peter was sitting with his head tipped to one side, obviously asleep. Diana said sharply, "I didn't mean for you to cheer him up by getting him drunk, Neal."

Neal frowned, "I know. He did that all by himself. I just got him back here before it got any worse."

Diana said tartly, "You're going to have to do better than that." Neal sighed and headed back up to Peter's office. 

"Hey Peter," Neal greeted him loudly enough to wake him up. "Little sleepy this afternoon?"

Peter struggled to get his bearings for a moment, then grouched, "What are you doing here? Don't you have work to do?"

Neal gave him a big smile and laughed, "Naw, the boss is sleeping on the job! I'm taking it easy."

"Very funny, Caffrey," sniffed Peter. "I told you I've been having trouble sleeping. I guess I nodded off for a minute."

"Or you just passed out after an all Scotch lunch," Neal chided gently. He smiled again and put his hands up in front of him as if Peter might throw something at him.

Peter said grumpily, "Okay, go on. Get out of here. You've made your point."

Neal reluctantly left. Jones stopped him on his way back to his desk. He asked, "Hey Neal, isn't there anything you can do to help Peter get over this? He's really broken up over the Benning case. I mean, it was awful, but I've never seen Peter like this."

"Any suggestions?" asked Neal irritably. "And don't suggest taking him out for a drink. We already tried that."

Neal kept an eye on Peter for the rest of the afternoon and intercepted him on his way out. "Hey, give me a ride home?" Neal asked cheerfully.

"Sure I'm not too drunk to drive?" Peter asked caustically.

Neal said lightly, "I don't think so. Do you?"

Peter gave him a look and replied, "I'm fine. Come on. Let's go."

Neal kept up a steady patter of light conversation all the way to June's house with little contribution by Peter. When they got there, Neal invited, "Come in for awhile, Peter?"

Peter challenged, "Can I have a drink?" Neal nodded, "Whatever you want."

When they got upstairs, Neal grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator, but Peter went for a shot glass and a bottle of Glenlivet. When Neal handed him an open beer and a glass, Peter poured the Scotch into the glass and dumped a shot glass of beer into it.

Neal was outraged, "A boilermaker? With my expensive Scotch?! What are you doing?"

Peter calmly drank it down and poured another. He answered, "Getting drunk."

"Come on, Peter. That's not going to help," Neal placated, putting his arms around him.

Peter shrugged him off, "Is too. It's the only thing that does help. I can't get her face out of my mind."

Neal argued, "Come on. You know it's not your fault, Peter. I'm sad about it, too. We all are, but we're not the ones who put her in danger. The kidnappers did that."

"I know all that, but it doesn't help. That terrified young girl, and her heartbroken parents, they're haunting me, Neal. I can't get their faces out of my mind," Peter's voice cracked. 

Neal felt at a loss. He kept his arms around Peter and laid his head on his shoulder. He finally offered, "Well, you want me to get drunk with you?"

Peter gave a grim little chuckle, "Now you're talking, Buddy."

"Okay, but let's call Elizabeth and tell her you're staying here tonight," Neal suggested.

Peter waved a hand at him. "Go ahead. You call her. She won't mind."

Neal walked outside to call Elizabeth so Peter wouldn't hear him. When she answered, he told her, "Elizabeth, Peter's here with me. I think he'd better stay tonight."

Elizabeth sighed, "Okay, Neal. I guess he's drinking, huh?"

Neal answered, "Oh yeah, heavily. He got drunk at lunch today, fell asleep in his office, and now he's drinking boilermakers here."

Elizabeth confided, "He's been getting up at night and going downstairs to drink, too. He can't sleep. It's that Benning case. It's making him crazy."

Neal agreed, "It is. I wish I knew how to help him. I've never seen him like this."

"Well, if anyone can help him, it's you, Neal," Elizabeth said confidently. "I have a big wedding this weekend so I'm going to have work all hours. Do you think you could keep Peter there with you for the weekend?"

"Oh, sure, I guess so," Neal said hesitantly.

"Unless you have other plans or something, I mean," Elizabeth responded. "I really think it would be the best thing for him."

Neal took a deep breath. "Of course. I'll do everything I can. I love Peter."

"I do, too," replied Elizabeth. "Please try to help him, Neal."

Neal returned to his kitchen and told an already drunk Peter, "I don't really feel like scotch. Okay if I drink bourbon instead?"

Peter smiled, "As long as you promise not to put Coke in it!"

Neal took it as a promising sign that at least Peter had joked with him. He opened a bottle of Blanton's and filled a small glass with it. He toasted Peter, "I need to catch up, so bottoms up!"

Peter watched Neal tip the glass up and drink most of it down. He laughed, "Easy tiger, we're not gonna have any fun if you make yourself sick. You know I can drink you under the table any day."

Neal could feel the bourbon going straight to his head. He reminded Peter, "Hey, we didn't finish lunch and we haven't had dinner. How about if we slow up a little bit and I'll fix us some dinner?"

Peter teased him, "Drink your bourbon and we'll order takeout, Julia Child. You promised to get drunk with me."

"Oh yeah, well, here goes," Neal said as he unwisely gulped more bourbon. "What shall I order us to eat?"

"I don't know," Peter chuckled, "but you better hurry up and do it while you can still talk."

Neal's face brightened as he remembered, "Wait. It's still early. I'll ask June if her chef will broil a couple of steaks for us."

Peter concurred, "With baked potatoes and salad! That sounds great."

Neal asked tentatively, "Can I trust you to behave while I go down and speak with June?"

"Of course," Peter agreed. "I'll even stop drinking scotch and switch to a nice red wine with our steaks for your sake."

"Very thoughtful," Neal responded. "Be right back." Neal hurried downstairs to explain the situation to June, who was as generous and understanding as always.

When he got back upstairs, Neal looked suspiciously at Peter, but he was calmly opening a bottle of very good Bordeaux wine. Neal told him, "It'll be about an hour till dinner is served. They'll bring it up for us."

Peter grinned, "Maybe this evening won't turn out to be a total loss after all. Come on and have another drink with me while we let this wine breathe."

Neal went over and, already feeling flirty from the bourbon, he threw his arms around Peter and kissed him. As Peter kissed back, Neal rutted against him. 

Peter was amused and accused, "You're already drunk, Neal. I know how horny you get when you drink."

"Don't you?" Neal asked seductively as he continued to kiss Peter around his face and neck.

Peter held him off and said seriously, "Not now, Neal. Maybe later."

Neal took his glass of bourbon and sipped it. He noticed that Peter was slipping back into his depressed mood. He held out Peter's glass of scotch, "Come on, let's drink and talk until our dinner gets here."

"Don't wanna talk," Peter said quietly. "It's not gonna change anything. Bitsy will still be dead because I fucked up."

"Peter, stop!" cried Neal. "You didn't shoot that girl. You did everything you could to save her."

"Well, I didn't do enough, did I?" Peter asked bitterly. "The girl is still dead. Her parents are still grieving."

Neal put his arms around Peter and looked at him with sincere blue eyes. He asked, "So what are you going to do? Punish yourself forever, Peter?"

Peter's eyes watered and he mourned, "Why should I enjoy living when I failed so miserably. Bitsy died and she didn't do anything to deserve it."

Neal said vehemently, "You don't deserve to die either, Peter! It wasn't your fault. Why can't you see that? Hasn't anyone ever died on your watch before?"

Peter whispered, "No. Not like this. Not an innocent young girl we were trying to save getting shot by one of the rescue team."

Neal pulled him close and rocked him. He comforted, "Oh Peter, Peter. You're going to have to let this go. Obliterating yourself with alcohol isn't the answer."

"I know that, Buddy," Peter temporized. "I just need it right now to get through the pain. It's the only thing that keeps me from obsessing about it."

Neal smiled at him sexily, "Are you sure it's the only thing? Maybe I could tempt you to try something else."

Peter shook his head sadly and replied, "I just don't think I can, Neal. It doesn't feel right for me to be enjoying life right now."

"Fine," said Neal. "Then let's get drunk. Ready for a glass of wine before dinner?" Peter answered bitterly, "Don't mock me, Neal."

"I'm not. I promised I'd get drunk with you. We can be as melancholy as you want to be. Let's drink," Neal proposed.

There was a knock on the door and their steak dinners were served. To Neal's surprise, Peter actually ate with a good appetite.

Peter commented, "I guess I was hungry. That was delicious. Have we finished the wine yet?"

They had kept drinking right through their meal and Neal was getting silly, even with the food. He giggled and admitted, "We finished that bottle. How about some brandy with dessert?"

Peter smiled, "There's dessert, too?" Neal brought over some cheesecake and a bottle of Courvoisier. Peter poured some into a couple of snifters and they twirled it around and tasted it.

"Wow. That's good stuff," Peter commented. Neal laughed, "The cognac or the cheesecake?"

"Both," Peter acknowledged. "I don't deserve this."

Neal moved over and sat on Peter's lap. He stroked his hair and pleaded, "Oh, don't start that again, please?"

Peter held him and kissed his neck. "Neal, you're too good to me. I shouldn't be around anyone else while I'm feeling this way."

"How long are you going to feel this way?" Neal asked curiously. The two men continued drinking and talking late into the night.

"Wha'd you say? I forgot," slurred a very drunk Neal. He laughed, "I think I might a had a li'l too much brandy, Pe'er."

Peter waved a hand in his direction and replied, "Aw, tha's okay. You tol' me you'd get drunk with me, 'member?"

Neal giggled, "Well, I did! Can' say I don' keep p'omises. Wait, Pr-om-iss-es.... Wha' were we talkin' 'bout again?"

Peter told him seriously, "You're drunk, Neal." Then he laughed, "Jus' like you promised."

Neal weaved over to hug Peter and said plaintively, "Pe'er, I don' want you to be sad anymore. Kay?"

Peter said sadly, "I can' help it. C'mon. Le's go to bed before we pass out right here."

Neal kissed him long and hard. His beautiful blue eyes had tears in them as he pleaded, "I need you Peeterr. Please don' keep being so sad."

Peter said wearily, "Okay, Buddy. I won'. Promise. Kay? Now le's go to bed, 'kay buddy?"

They staggered into the bedroom and struggled out of most of their clothes and fell onto the bed. Peter cuddled Neal and they were both asleep before they could say anything else.

Early in the morning, Neal awoke and discovered that Peter was not beside him in bed. Still a little drunk from the night before, Neal staggered out of bed to look for him. He heard the shower running in the bathroom and decided that must be where Peter was.

Neal went to the kitchen to make Bloody Mary's to surprise Peter. If Peter wanted to stay drunk all weekend, Neal was determined to accommodate him. He quietly opened the bathroom door, but to his surprise, Peter was not in the shower. He was sitting on the closed toilet seat sobbing. 

Peter looked up at Neal, embarrassed, and muttered, "Sorry. Didn't want you to hear me."

Neal dropped to his knees beside him and hugged him. He said quietly, "Oh Peter, you don't hafta hide your tears from me."

Peter sighed, "Come on, Buddy. Let's get out of the bathroom."

Neal smiled and held up a Bloody Mary. He tempted him, "Wanna get back in bed with me and drink some breakfast?"

Peter grinned gratefully, "Yeah, that's a good idea. You see what happens when I start to sober up."

Neal commiserated, "It must be awful to feel so bad. You can't just stay drunk all the time, though, you know."

"Are you sure?" teased Peter. "How about just for the weekend?"

They sipped their drinks and Neal ran his fingers over Peter's thighs, getting the desired result. Peter looked at him affectionately and said, "Told you you're a slut when you drink."

"Mmm," Neal murmured. "Is that so bad? Let's fuck. That always helps me get my mind off of things."

Peter concurred, "Maybe you're right." He put down his glass and took Neal's from him. Then he rolled onto him and kissed him hungrily. 

Neal responded enthusiastically, but Peter pulled back and paused. Neal whined, "Wha's a matter now?"

Peter asked hesitantly, "Neal, do you think you could, kind of, punish me? I think that might be what I need."

Neal gazed at him seriously, "Do you mean hurt you, Peter? I don't know. I understand why you're asking. I just don't know if I can do it."

Peter looked discouraged, "No, I guess not. It was just an idea anyway. I feel like I should be punished somehow."

"Well, wait. I can try, Peter. I have a whip in my closet. I'm willing to use it on you, but you'll have to tell me how hard and when to stop."

Peter looked at him and asked curiously, "Neal, why do you have a whip in your closet?"

"Ah, well, ah, Peter, I don't think that's important right now, do you?" Neal prevaricated.

"Neal, have you had someone whip you? Does it make you feel better?" Peter persisted.

Neal cleared his throat. "Yes, there have been times when I've gotten pleasure from pain. I've never inflicted pain on anyone else though."

Peter asked shyly, "Well, do you think you could? You're a good actor, Neal. You could just think of it as playing a role."

Neal reluctantly got the whip out of his closet. He remembered the last time someone had used it on him and he shivered. He wanted to help Peter, but this didn't feel right.

Neal had an idea. He explained, "Peter, it doesn't feel right for me to punish you when I don't believe you deserve it. You are the one who feels a need to punish - so how about if you pretend I'm you and whip me?"

"What?" Peter exclaimed, "That's the craziest thing I've heard in a long time!"

"It really isn't," Neal insisted patiently. "It's not so bad that you feel sad about what happened. That's natural. The problem is that you feel guilty and you have a need to blame and punish yourself."

"So how will whipping you help that?" asked a perplexed Peter. "That won't punish me."

Neal handed him the whip and instructed, "Just try it. You need to get that aggression out. Call me Peter or Fuckup or any other name you want and whip me the way you want to punish yourself."

Peter hesitantly took the whip and Neal lay face down on the bed. Neal remembered to tell him, "If I yell RED, stop. That will be my safe word, okay?"

Peter asked once more, "Are you sure about this, Neal?"

Neal nodded and clutched his pillow. Peter began to whip him, leaving red streaks across his ass. After a couple of lashes, Peter started berating himself, "There. How's that feel, Peter? You're such a goddammed fuck up."

With each lash, he added more, "If you'd run the damn op right, Bitsy would have been rescued instead of getting killed. Her parents would be happy instead of devastated."

Neal clenched his teeth and fisted the pillowcase as the lashes became more punishing, but he didn't utter a sound.

Peter cursed and lashed until the blood dripping down Neal's legs caught his eye. Suddenly he came to his senses and threw the whip down in disgust.

Peter cradled a trembling Neal against his chest and held him tightly, begging, "Forgive me. Oh please, Neal, forgive me."

Both men were sobbing and Neal clutched Peter like a lifesaver. Neal whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Peter soothed him, "No, no. You have nothing to be sorry for. You should have stopped me."

Neal shook his head. "I didn't want to stop you, Peter. I can't explain it."

They held each other tightly and cried until they finally calmed down. Peter looked deeply into those devastating darkened blue eyes and swore fervently, "I love you so much. I'm so sorry I hurt you. I'll never do it again."

Neal leaned in and kissed him passionately. "I forgive you. I know you didn't mean to," Neal comforted. "I love you, Peter."

Neal slid down Peter's body, kissing him and nipping at him as he went. When he reached Peter's excited cock, he licked him a few times and then he took him in his mouth. Peter groaned and let Neal slowly drive him to a frenzied climax. The last of his aggressive remorse dissipated with his orgasm.

Neal slid back up to lie on top of Peter so his sore buttocks were uncovered. He nuzzled Peter's neck and snuggled against him. Peter smiled and pet Neal's soft hair until Neal was peacefully sleeping. Before long, Peter fell asleep, too, without being haunted by the faces of Bitsy and her parents.

After an hour or so, Peter got up and started cooking a late breakfast. He heard a pitiful moan come from Neal on the bed. He cried out, "Oh Peter, if you brought your gun, just shoot me!"

Peter hurried over to him and worried, "Is it your ass where I hit you? Are you in pain?"

Neal gave a little laugh and groaned, "No, it's my head! How much did I drink last night?"

Peter felt relieved and chuckled, "I'd say a few glasses of bourbon, a bottle of Bordeaux, and about a half a bottle of brandy. Then there was the Bloody Mary this morning...."

"Stop! Please just stop. You're talking too loud. I swear my head is about to explode," begged Neal.

"Seriously, Buddy, let me see the marks on your ass and the backs of your legs. I hit you a lot harder than I should have," worried Peter.

Neal waved him off, "No, don't worry. I'm a little sore, but it's superficial damage. I'll be fine. Right now it's helping to take my mind of the pain in my head."

Peter asked, "Wanna soak in the tub with me after breakfast? Then I'll rub some aloe cream on you."

Neal joked, "You just want an excuse to feel up my legs, don't you?" Peter laughed at him, "I didn't know I needed an excuse for that. But if you're good and eat all your breakfast, my mouth may just find its way to your gorgeous cock."

"Promise?" Neal grinned. He bounced out of bed and asked, "So what's for breakfast?" Peter finished cooking breakfast and proudly served it to Neal with a Bloody Mary.

"What? No pickle juice?" teased Neal. Peter told him fondly, "This will have to do for now. Maybe I'll ask El to bring some over for you later."

Neal sipped the Bloody Mary and swallowed a couple of Tylenol. He looked at Peter curiously and wondered, "You drank at least as much as I did. How come you're not hurting?"

Peter looked at him affectionately and explained, "I feel better than I have in a long time, Buddy. You were right about getting out my aggression. I feel like a weight was lifted off my shoulders."

Neal gave him a beautiful smile, eyes shining. He said, "I'm so glad that worked for you. It was worth a little pain in my ass!"

"I guess I was being the pain in the ass for everyone," confessed Peter. "I just felt so angry at myself. Now I feel like I can put it in better perspective. How did you ever get so smart, Dr. Freud?"

"Maybe I just wanted an excuse for you to whip me," teased Neal. "Seriously, it's not something I've participated in very many times, but it turns me on. Afterward, I feel cleansed and calm. It's hard to explain."

Peter wrapped his arms around him and said quietly, "You do not deserve to be whipped, Neal. I never want you to think that. I was doing what you told me to do, pretending you were me."

Neal asked innocently, "Could we take that bath? I'm ready for my dessert now."

After Peter fulfilled his promise to Neal, the two friends spent a quiet day together. Peter watched a ballgame on TV and Neal dabbled with his paints. They talked off and on about the Benning case, about what had gone wrong and how sad it was and how they could catch the escaped kidnappers. They went to bed early and made love passionately, feeling a deep emotional connection between them.

On Monday morning at the office, Peter was a renewed man. He apologized to Hughes for his inappropriate behavior and then called his team together to discuss their next case. Afterwards, he set to work on finishing the paperwork for the Benning case. He called Bitsy's parents to ask how they were getting along and promised he wouldn't stop looking for the kidnappers. 

Every now and then, he would gaze out the window at his busy CI and wonder how he became so wise at such a young age. He was chagrined to realize that Neal was avoiding sitting down.

Neal caught Peter looking at him through the window. He smiled lasciviously and licked his lips and gave him a wink. Peter laughed with delight because, for all Neal's mature wisdom and experience, he really was still a boy - an impetuous, intuitive, generous, wonderful, beautiful boy that Peter loved with all his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Characters were created by Jeff Eastin for the White Collar series on USA TV.


End file.
